Putin's last press conference of the year will go down in history as the most empty, vacuous, yet, in a gypsy-like way, vibrant and cheerful. The sources of the Cheka-OGPU and Rucriminal.info were right when they reported a complete ban on negativity. It seems the organizers followed the principle of "I'll put on all my best stuff right away," and ended up with something between a circus tent celebrating an anniversary and the "Field of Miracles" show. The hall was filled with bright, joyful people who brought Putin gifts from around the world, invited him to weddings, and asked the leader of the nation if he was in love. It turned out he was (greetings to Alina Kabaeva).
Putin, of course, began with the "situation at the front," which he spoke of mostly in the future tense: "Krasny Liman will be taken," "a springboard for further operations," "after which our units will deploy westward." The only news of any significance was the announcement of a possible suspension of strikes deep into Ukraine during the elections—but only on the condition that Ukrainians living in Russia vote.
And also: "We have no repressions or criminal prosecution of foreign agents." That's in case anyone doubted things could get worse.
Those worried about the future of foreign messaging apps can worry further: Putin didn't give a clear answer about what would happen to them. However, he did promise that the MAX messenger would have a competitor. The show also revealed who dug the country's demographic hole—there were no surprises here, either. The idea has been floating around since they decided to pay schoolgirls and students extra for pregnancy: "A woman wants to get an education, then further her education, then take her first steps in her career—but then she's 30, has her first child, and doesn't have the strength for a second," so "we should follow the example of the peoples of the Caucasus; they marry at an early age." Putin didn't specify how early the age of consent should be...
A baker from the Mashenka bakery in Lyubertsy, who asked about taxes, promised to send Putin "delicious pies." A journalist, who had traveled all the way from Tajikistan, attempted to hand the president a copy of "Heart of Asia" and suggested erecting a monument to Omar Khayyam in Russia. A woman from Tomsk urged the president to vote for Tomsk in the "Student Capital of Russia" category. A journalist from the Urals proposed to his girlfriend Olga live on air and announced that they would need an apartment for their large family. So, he prudently invited Putin to the wedding. He promised to "save up" for the celebration.
The camera regularly captured incredibly smiling audience members in red and blue suits, joyful media workers, and women in shiny kokoshniks—apparently, this is the headdress of the year, and Putin especially likes it.
The atmosphere strongly suggested that a gift song would soon begin playing, and the "Prize" section would appear on the drums.
However, by the end of the second hour, the audience had grown a little sad, and a representative of Chechnya, holding a sign reading "Chechnya is Important," barely suppressed an off-the-cuff murmur during the national leader's talk about a secure domestic messenger.
In total, the show lasted 4.5 hours—the same as last year. True, Putin declined to deliver his annual address to the Federal Assembly this year, making it his only major speech. That the entire event was originally conceived as a show is evident from the fact that it was scheduled for Friday—a day considered by PR professionals to be a priori unfavorable for serious news coverage, but perfectly suitable for entertaining content.
So the content dissolved into hours of broadcast, leaving only the format.
